


when time from time shall set us free

by light_loves_the_dark



Series: time from time [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Combining Historical with RL, F/M, and it's because lin had 30+ years to write it, eulogy, gratuitous use of hamilton lyrics, hamilton becomes the most successful musical of all time, lin and an ofc travel back in time to 1776, somehow it worked out historically though, this is a lot, trust me i've done the timelines, washington is a dad as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15133664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/light_loves_the_dark/pseuds/light_loves_the_dark
Summary: Many people will wonder what I hoped to accomplish with the publication of this letter. I am not trying to convince those who do not believe in time travel of my truth. I cannot make a more convincing argument than the one science has already laid before you. I suppose I only wanted to shed light on what might be the most important miracle of the century. And maybe teach a lesson about sacrifice.-A Hamilton RPF Time Travel AU.





	when time from time shall set us free

**Author's Note:**

> okay.. i wasn't kidding when said in the tags that this is A Lot. 
> 
> basically my friend and I came up with this concept two years ago while drunk. since then, i, who had sworn off writing OC fanfic a long time ago, have somehow written over 150k words for this verse. basically a quick synopsis if you're still confused after reading this: Lin and a college student travel back in time in 2015 after hamilton is on broadway. they live out the full 30+ years between 1776-1804 during Hamilton's life, having all sorts of adventures, the biggest of which is a super angsty love/friendship story between hamilton and the oc that is never acted on because i respect eliza way too much - then they return to 2012, and realize they can write a better musical. 
> 
> i told you it's a lot, but i have made the decision to publish it in case someone else actually might enjoy it. 
> 
> oh, also it RPF offends you, this probably isn't the story for you. 
> 
> title from ee cummings

**Time from Time: A Eulogy**

**John Phillip Diggs**

 

 

Alexander Hamilton has always had an undeniable presence in my household.

Those of you who are familiar with theatre, or honestly 21 st century culture, will laugh and say of course he did. After all, my mother and my Uncle Lin wrote the game-changing play Hamilton, based on the founding father himself _. (in the interest of complete honesty, I will admit to those of you who are unaware: Lin was only my honorary uncle. nevertheless, I would think the thirty years my mother and he spent together in an unfamiliar place, only able to confide in each other, would inevitably end with a relationship that is as close as one sibling to another, if not closer.)  _

My father starred in the play as well, winning the prestigious Tony Award for his performance. Though my mother helped write quite a few of the songs and had her hands in ever part of production, she, for some reason, actively avoided the theatre whenever it played. That is, with a few notable exceptions.  _ (more on these later.)  _

My sister and I knew every lyric from 'Alexander Hamilton' to 'Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story' by the age of five. By the age of ten, we knew just about as much material about the revolutionary war and the following twenty-odd years as any professor that made their living on such knowledge. 

But I digress. Those of you reading this most likely know my family's background. You want to know their story.

You want to know the truth. 

My mother's letters and diaries were published post-mortem, as she intended. My late uncle's were released days later by his eldest son. They have been fact-checked and dated, and scientifically there is no question. Yet still you wonder. 

So, despite my mother's wishes that her children remain silent in the wake of this revelation, I feel compelled to break the final vow I made to her. I do this to clear not only her name, but my father's, and the name of the man that for the longest time was simply 'Alex' to me.

Therefore, I do not say this lightly: my mother went by two names in her lifetime. The second of these was Viola Washington. 

Yes, Uncle Lin and Mom traveled back in time. No, they don't know how, or why. 

In summary, they met in 2015 in passing at the stage door of the Richard Rodgers Theatre. They shook hands and the world shifted. After trudging around 1776's Virginia for a day, they met and convinced Martha and George Washington that they were from the future.  _ (it is a clever little story where John Hancock probably saved their lives, but should be read by my mother's poetic hand, not mine.)  _ They became the Washington wards, and for decades they lived, fought, and loved in a time period far unlike our own. Amid the madness they tried to stay true to history, the cost often watching their loved ones die knowing they could prevent it. Finally, in 1804, my mother confessed the truth to a dying Alexander after thirty years of deception. 

When my parents and uncle sat my sister and me down to tell us their story, Mom left the room in tears at this memory. My uncle followed her into the kitchen, and our father told us of Alex's forgiveness and subsequent death over the sounds of breathless sobs and soft hushing noises. We pretended to listen to dad as he told us how Eliza and Angelica held Alex's hands while my uncle and mother clung tightly to one another in the corner of his bedroom, each with the purpose of stopping the other from lurching forward into Alex's arms and begging for absolution. John might have stood behind Alex as his second while Viola retrieved Angelica to the Hamilton's uptown home to ensure her presence at his deathbed, but neither stopped the duel. 

To my relief, Dad was obviously not paying us much attention either, his eyes frequently darting to the kitchen and the agonized sounds my mother made as my uncle murmured quiet words of comfort to her.  _ (among these many phrases, one repeats itself in my head every day: remember, love, remember what he said? 'I beg you to remain by my side, my dearest; you have bound us so tightly not even death could bring himself to sever our hearts, sewn together as they are.' he loved you. he loved you so much; he would want you to be happy. shh love, that's it; don't cry.)  _

Pretenses disposed of, my father quietly informed us that those were the last words of Alexander Hamilton to Viola Washington. 

The particulars of my mother's past came gradually. My sister would play a perfect scale on piano and Mom would remember a quiet day teaching Angie Hamilton the same skill. I went through a poetry phase and Uncle Lin would affectionately call me Phillip's legacy. My mother would try on a new dress and remark on the quality of the stitching, the mirth in her eyes growing as she recounted a fitting she sat through for Hercules Mulligan. 

_ (perhaps most memorable to me was how, whenever we would visit museums and parks that contained a statue of a founding father, mom would stand and stare at them for the longest time. if she was in a sharing mood, she'd pick out the inaccuracies to make us laugh. one time, and I kid you not, she gazed upon Thomas Jefferson's likeness, seemingly deep in thought, only to admit moments later that she was glad she had slapped him when she had the chance. sometimes, however, she would look so sad that my father would squeeze her hand in support before ushering us away. when it was particularly bad, he called Lin.)  _

But no matter how wistfully she spoke of him, nothing could change the fact that on July 12th, 1804, Alex died. And as soon as he stopped breathing, my mother and uncle traveled from the birth of our nation to the early 2010s, to live out the years from 2012 to 2015 a second time. Despite Eliza and Angelica's plethora of correspondence and actions to preserve Alexander's legacy, they never once wrote about John and Viola Washington's disappearance. My uncle maintains that they found Viola's final letter to Alex, and the sisters protected them. If I have learned anything about American History from my mother, it is that the Schuyler sisters were remarkably clever and kind, a combination my sister and I always tried to emulate. 

So, after all the trials and fighting and secrets, they were back. My mother told me once it was like waking from a bad dream, and for a second she was between worlds. When my uncle got to her five hours later, the nightmare became real. 

They were left reeling, two people with both a full thirty years and only a single moment between them. I have no way of describing this for either member of my family, except that I know there were many tears. According to family friends, my mother spoke honestly to no one but Lin for weeks, unable to reconnect, mourning the loss of a man she never truly had. Lin was equally broken. Vanessa and he even tried to leave the city for a week or two, but came back within days because he missed my mother too much. It was clear that recovery would be long and painful. 

If it was Vanessa who pulled Lin back onto his feet, it was my father who pulled Mom out of her grief. He listened to the poems and songs she wrote about Viola and John, the wards of the Washingtons, two people who were now an influential part of history. He watched as took what Lin had started and rewrote  _ Hamilton, _ changing an amazing musical to something that might be one of the most influential pieces of theatre of all time. He listened to the story that the two told the world, and I can attest to the fact they were good enough storytellers that they fooled just about everyone.

My father believed, until two years later my mother took him by the hand and, with sad eyes, led him to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. There, a portrait of our first president and his family hangs in the American History wing. In a memory that they have told us many times, my mother stood next her likeness, squeezing my father's hand tightly enough to bruise. My father's ever-present grin slowly faded, and for a long time they could not take their eyes off each other.

Though my father, understandably, responded with confusion and not a little anger, he maintained until the day he died that  _ that _ was the moment he truly fell in love with Mom. 

He must've been telling the truth, because three weeks later, my father took my mother to one of her few notable viewings of _ Hamilton: An American Musical _ . In the wake of the performance, the cast pulled my surprised mother onto the stage to sing a rendition of Helpless, Eliza's and Alex's love story, with my father in the role of Alex.  _ (and Lin as Angelica, which never ceases to amuse.)  _ Three minutes and a few changed lyrics later, Dad had proposed and Mom had accepted. 

Both my father and mother wrote very fondly about this moment. It was an impossibly selfless act to my teenage self- the idea that my dad's proposal was more about him fulfilling my mother's dream of being, at least for a moment, married in the time period in which she had spent the majority of her life, than my parents' relationship itself. 

_ (neither of them ever said the words 'of being married to Alexander Hamilton', but they hung heavy in the air, like Alex himself.) _

I suppose this is a good enough transition to the question everyone seems to be asking. 

If you don't know your American History, Alex and my mother met for the first time at a dinner hosted by John Adams, of all people. George Washington introduced the two  _ (can you tell I'm name-dropping?)  _ and by the end of the night, they were as thick as thieves. My mother kept an organized collection of the letters he sent her over the years; there were twenty-three in that month alone. One year and a gently declined proposal later, she introduced him to Angelica Schuyler, who would be his conduit to the future Elizabeth Schuyler-Hamilton. 

No matter how his life twisted and turned, they stayed in close contact. In his famous recollection of his childhood, John Church Hamilton remembered often finding the two in the sitting room, reading and writing, or returning from a walk, heads bent close together. The truth? Alex loved my mother. There is plenty of evidence in her letters, in his, in the offer of marriage he made her which she refused. In the delicate, ancient ring she wore around her neck that is buried with her. But she also stood as his family at his wedding, stood up for his policies as a friend, and stood by Eliza in the wake of the Reynolds Pamphlet. She cursed at  _ (and apparently slapped) _ Thomas Jefferson on his behalf. He returned to the war in search of Washington's forgiveness because she wished it. 

His love for her does not take away his love for his wife, or for Angelica Schuyler. ( _ I would mention John Laurens but it would take away from my next point.)  _ The truth is Alexander Hamilton surrounded himself with strong, clever women. Angelica had a head for politics and economics. My mother was a wonderful writer and prolific reader, editing his papers and pamphlets before he published or presented. Eliza raised his children and was, personally and socially, an incredible wife and woman. 

And when Viola Washington confessed the truth and her love on his deathbed, it was his love for her that overcame the sense of betrayal. He died without ever calling by her real name. 

Despite Mom's first romance  _ (the proportions of which belong more in a novel than real life) _ she did not, as many have recently commented, settle for Dad. You did not grow up in a house with the two of them. You did not witness them fall in love more and more every day. They sang and danced and lived a life many would envy, and if the world were astute it would realize one can love many different people in a lifetime. My mother missed her life with the Hamiltons and Washingtons, of course, but she loved her life with her present-day family. Those of you who doubt me, well... that's your problem. 

So, when I tell you that Alexander Hamilton had a presence in my home, I am not jealous or bitter or upset. While every now and then, when my mother was sad or my father insecure, he weighed heavily on our minds, mostly he was there to remind us that we have the very best life in this beautiful country. One he helped to build. One, if I am permitted a reference, where he left his fingerprints. 

Many people will wonder what I hoped to accomplish with the publication of this letter. I am not trying to convince those who do not believe in time travel of my truth. I cannot make a more convincing argument than the one science has already laid before you. I suppose I only wanted to shed light on what might be the most important miracle of the century. And maybe teach a lesson about sacrifice. 

My mother was strictly agnostic, but my sister and I were raised as Baptist. And now my hope for heaven is solidified even more because, in all honesty, Mom deserves it. 

I imagine that my mother has loved and lost and given enough to end up in some sort of heaven. I imagine Uncle Lin greets her with one of his trademark tight hugs at the gates. Sometimes I think he would miss her the most, despite Alex's three-hundred-year wait. In my mind, they were soulmates. Platonically, but they understood one another in a way even I cannot comprehend.

I imagine my father standing hesitantly behind the two. He waits for my mother to ask after Alex, not prepared for Mom to march up and pull him down for a hard kiss without mentioning a founding father. Instead, she tearfully scolds him for leaving her too soon.

I imagine my father does not contain his smile. 

I imagine the family and close friends that surround her with hugs and laughter. Vanessa is the first to cry; she felt just as much and loved just as hard as Lin did, which is probably why they were so perfect for each other. Angelica Schuyler forgives her for her silence, her part in Alexander's death. Eliza forgives her for Philip's, who is the second Hamilton child behind Angie to launch themselves into her arms. 

I imagine the tense moment before George Washington calls her daughter, for though they fought in the days leading up to his death, they loved each other fiercely. Martha kisses her on both cheeks, and her children follow suit. Lin wraps his arms around her waist from behind and suddenly the six Washingtons are caught up in a warm embrace. They remain like this for a long time. 

I imagine Aaron Burr stands at the edge of the group, his Theodosias at his side. He does not know my mother forgave him a long time ago. 

I imagine my mother, overwhelmed, finally finding Alexander's eyes. He waits for her patiently, knowing their reunion will certainly take the longest. She does not run to him, nor he to her; they finally have time. He no longer burns with nervous energy the way she always described him. Followed by knowing looks exchanged with both Eliza and Dad, she joins him by the edge of the yard where her loved ones have gathered. I yearn to see the smile that would spread across her face when he bends to kiss her hand. My love, he says gently, you took your time. 

I imagine Alex's face when he sees her again after nearly three hundred years. He holds out his arm and escorts her through a nearby garden, eyes never leaving her face, cataloging the features he has forgotten as they walk. They speak of the people they have been and their incomplete hearts that have hurt for so long. Under my mother's favorite pink roses, flowers he used to give her every year on her birthday, he whispers the name he was never able to say on earth like he is praying. Then, blissfully unaware of the happy faces watching from the pathway, he kisses her. 

And as my sister and I stand side by side at our parents' graves, Alex's only moments away, I think to myself- 

That would be enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> i mean it when i say i have SO MUCH written for this. if you're intrigued, lmk! <3


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